


Tarantism

by lightningwaltz



Category: Messiah Project - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 02:27:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4204533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightningwaltz/pseuds/lightningwaltz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>The urge to overcome melancholy by dance.</i> [fic written for a prompt]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tarantism

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a drabble. But, as is often the case with me, it took on a life of its own. In this case it's because I'm very interested in the time period between the movie and the first play. They are so close by the time _Dou no Shou_ rolls around, which makes me think quite a lot of bonding must have happened off-screen. So here's my attempt to write one such moment.

There’s sharing a room, and then there’s living together. Souma supposes he and Shuusuke do the latter, nowadays. 

He knows this by all the inconsequential stuff they see each other do. After all, ‘home’ is that feeling you get wherever you can take refuge in dumb hobbies. It’s where you don’t fear the reaction of the person next to you. So here he is, playing cat’s cradle, and making a few detours into Jacob’s ladder. It’s something he’s known to do much longer than he’s known how to work a gun. He spins each new shape to the beat of the music, no matter the genre, no matter the melody. Shuusuke looks over and smiles, and that’s new and old all at once, too. Because Haruki did that, while sitting at the exact same desk. 

Except Haruki tended to play the same thing over and over, until Souma would start whistling it, without knowing it, at random moments in the day. Sometimes he would do it during a lull in a meeting, and he'd wonder if Ichijima was going to fast track Souma's execution after all.

He's not in danger of this with his new messiah. Shuusuke is into all kinds of music, and lately he plays it without headphones (always asking Souma if it’s alright, and Souma always giving permission.) Sometimes Shuusuke will even nod off while listening to it, his head dipping down into his chest, before he lurches up, eyelids fluttering, and only a little embarrassed. It makes Souma think about lifting him up, and tucking Shuusuke back into bed.

He doesn't become overly familiar with any of Shuusuke's music, but it still clues him in on some things. Unexpected things. Before, Souma had Shuusuke down as the kind of guy who only listened to classical music. He figured he was in for hearing a lot of intense, sprawling symphonies by guys with Italian and French names. And sometimes those things do come up on Shuusuke’s internet radio, and he doesn’t skip those tracks.

But he’s actually something of a musical omnivore, in the end. Souma’s caught him listening to old school stuff, pretentious indie shit, and some chart-topping music. And like a good omnivore, he claims it’s because it’s good for him. When Souma asked about it once, Shuusuke said you can learn a lot about the world by the state of its popular culture.

Probably true. But Souma thinks there’s a large part of Shuusuke that just likes a catchy tune, and he won’t admit to it. That’s fine. Souma hasn’t shared everything yet. It’s not like everything _needs_ to be shared.

At the moment, Shuusuke is listening to a pop song that’s a few years past its shelf life. It’s the kind of music designed to be consumed quickly, and discarded just as fast.

Huh. 

An unexpectedly perfect musical backdrop for Sakura's culture, then.

And Souma should not be swamped with nostalgia upon hearing its opening bars. Shuusuke notices, judging by the way his eyes dart from Souma’s face, to the computer screen, and back again. Did he think his glasses hid things like that? 

“I heard this song a lot, a few years ago.” Souma pulls the loops of string from each of his fingers. They’ve left grooves on the skin of his knuckles.

“Many of us did.” It’s the kind of thing that sounds almost rude, until you sift out the subtext. Then it becomes something else entirely. _What is going on with you?_ “I have no strong opinions on it, though.”

“Okay, I just mean… In the daycare center. The beat of the song is sort of unusual, like…” He sits up in his bed, and taps it out on the bedside table. “There’s some name for it, but the point is that you can actually waltz to it. And we had this unit where we trying to teach the kids different types of dances, but sometimes they got bored by older music.” Not all daycare centers plan such elaborate learning opportunities for kids. Mostly he’d been the one pushing for them, because variety was nice, and exercise was definitely good. 

Also it didn’t really matter what other places did or didn’t do. This was Souma’s responsibility, and he would do what he believed to be right. He really had way more control than someone in his position should have had, but he had chalked it up to his enthusiasm being rewarded. 

How naive.

“So,” he continues, and the loudness of his voice warns him of his underlying mood well before it punches him in the gut. “When this song came out, we all just went ‘what the hell, let’s have them dance to something they already like,’ you know?”

Shuusuke is saying something in agreement, but it doesn’t really reach Souma.

Because, here’s the thing; when Souma had been scouring the internet for information on the history of dance (a cool topic, but not his area of expertise), the people who’d signed off on his curriculum had also been conspiring with the enemy. A capital crime. Yes, he’s still pissed at them, but he also remembers their dumb jokes and how they would fret over what to get their kids for their birthdays. And now they’re buried in unmarked graves. Or maybe their ashes had been dumped into the Pacific. 

There were times he was sure that that had actually happened to him, and everything since has been a fever dream in the moments just before dying. He’d been burned down to something completely different, and scattered to the wind.

“Alright, can you show me how to do it?”

Shuusuke holding out his hand to Souma… Will it always be an action fraught with meaning? Just two months ago, they’d clasped hands over Haruki’s body. Before that, he’d denied the gesture completely.

“Well… I can try.” He reaches out- overly quick- and holds on with a light grip. Trying to be much gentler than the shared weight of their memories (and everything they still carried in secret.) Maybe, over time, holding hands will become something as simple as sharing a room together.

This is definitely a start.

“The kids mostly did this, not me. They were probably more adorable than I’m about to be, too.” Still he gets their arms in position, and his feet remember what to do. Even after all this time. As he starts to move, Shuusuke responds with such ease he might as well be the one leading. “You liar! You already knew how to do this.”

“Not well.” Shuusukes smile lights up any room. Who knew? It’s nice to see anywhere, but especially nice in a room without windows. “And certainly not to this song.”

“Hmph.” Souma doesn’t know what to say to that, but he knows he likes the feeling of Shuusuke’s hands on him. Supporting him. Has liked it for a while, even though it's a rare thing. It’s definitely nice to move in tandem for the sake of art (clumsy, fumbling art) rather than because he’s learning how to kill.

“Also, I enjoy hearing you talk about your previous occupation. You looked happy, at first. I think you must have been great at it.”

“Ah well…” He pushes back the urge to dip Shuusuke, if only to see the guy’s reaction. Maybe in a few months, maybe after a few more inside jokes. “I wasn’t bad at it, at least.”

Shuusuke doesn’t have much to say to that, but that’s okay. It’s not an uneasy silence. It’s a silence that moves and tilts, adhering to a beat that comes in threes. They dance around it, within it. And when the song is over, when they separate, it doesn’t seem like letting go. It’s been a while since he studied this, but Souma is pretty sure you don’t change partners when waltzing. You just take a break, take a breather, and then you return.


End file.
